On Wednesday afternoon Lord Rotherwood and Florence called, their heads the more full of the 30th because the Marquis had not once thought of it while Mr. Devereux was ill. Among the intended diversions fireworks were mentioned, and from that moment rockets, wheels, and serpents, commenced a wild career through Maurice’s brain. Through the whole evening he searched for books on what he was pleased to call the art of pyrotechnics, studied them all Wednesday, and the next morning announced his intention of making some fireworks on a new plan. ‘No, you must not,’ said Emily, ‘you will be sure to do mischief.’ ‘I am going to ask Wat for some powder,’ was Maurice’s reply, and he walked off. ‘Stop him, Jane, stop him,’ cried Emily. ‘Nothing can be so dangerous. Tell him how angry papa would be.’ Though Jane highly esteemed her brother’s discretion, she did not much like the idea of his touching powder, and she ran after him to suggest that he had better wait till papa’s return. ‘Then Redgie will be at home,’ said Maurice, ‘and I could not be answerable for the consequence of such a careless fellow touching powder.’ This great proof of caution quite satisfied Jane, but not so Wat Greenwood, who proved himself a faithful servant by refusing to let Master Maurice have one grain of gunpowder without express leave from the squire. Maurice then had recourse to Jane, and his power over her was such as to triumph over strong sense and weak notions of obedience, so that she was prevailed upon to supply him with the means of making the dangerous and forbidden purchase. Emily was both annoyed and alarmed when she found that the gunpowder was actually in the house, and she even thought of sending a note to the parsonage to beg Mr. Devereux to speak to Maurice; but Jane had gone over to the enemy, and Emily never could do anything unsupported. Besides, she neither liked to affront Maurice nor to confess herself unable to keep him in order; and she, therefore, tried to put the whole matter out of her head, in the thoughts of an expedition to Raynham, which she was about to make in the manner she best liked, with Jane in the close carriage, and the horses reluctantly spared from their farm work. As they were turning the corner of the lane they overtook Phyllis and Adeline on their way to the school with some work, and Emily stopped the carriage, to desire them to send off a letter which she had left on the chimney-piece in the schoolroom. Then proceeding to Raynham, they made their visits, paid Emily’s debts, performed their commissions, and met the carriage again at the bookseller’s shop, at the end of about two hours. ‘Look here, Emily!’ exclaimed Jane. ‘Read this! can it be Mrs. Aylmer?’ ‘The truly charitable,’ said Emily, contemptuously. ‘Mrs. Aylmer is above—’ ‘But read. It says “unbeneficed clergyman and deceased nobleman,” and who can that be but Uncle Rotherwood and Mr. Aylmer.’